A Stop Along the Way
by K-Danuve
Summary: When Snape died he had a choice to make. Would he continue on, or go back?


A Stop Along the Way

Summary

When Snape died he had a choice to make. Would he continue on, or go back?

A/N Thanks to everyone who's read this story. I hope you enjoyed it. Special thanks to Roonil Wazlib for reviewing. I add this note primarily because I went back and read the story a few hours after posting it and realized something was off. I didn't save my last edits and uploaded this story with the same mistakes I had tried to correct. I have gone through and corrected them...I think I got all of them but I may be missed a few. It's late and I reread it again tomorrow to make sure I did fix them all.

I hope you, the readers, enjoy the story!

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter

A Stop Along the Way

Snape lies on his back, feeling warmth surround him. 'Death isn't so bad,' he thinks. He lies waiting for the feeling to leave but as the seconds pass he realizes something must be wrong. Why would he feel so warm? Isn't death supposed to be cold?

He opens his eyes, and quickly raises his hand to shield them. He's staring up at the clear, blue sky and the bright sun causes him to wince. Turning his head, he notices that he's lying on the ground. With his free hand, he reaches out and grabs a handful of grass, tears it from the ground, and releases the blades allowing them to fall gently down.

"Where am I?"

He sits up and gazes around. The field of grass continues to his right, a small grove of trees stand behind him, and on his left are bushes. Confused, he tries to remember what happened. Thoughts of Voldemort talking with him come to mind. He waves his hand dispelling the thoughts, and those of Nagini sinking her fangs into his neck. He remembers falling to the ground and looking up find Potter; he did have a knack of showing up where he shouldn't be. With Potter leaning over him, he tried to give him the memory that he needed to know. So many flowed out of him in those moments, more than he wanted the irksome child to know; he only hoped that Potter at least found the right one. He remembers grasping Potter and ordering him to look at him…but that's it.

"I must be dead, so this place…"

He stands up, letting the remainder of the sentence hang in the air. What was this place? It seems familiar, but Snape gazes around trying to place it. The open field, the thicket of trees, the bushes, and the longer he tries to place it the further the memory recedes. He closes his eyes, hoping that without the benefit of sight he might hear something that will trigger his memory.

The sounds of birds are almost overwhelming. He can hear them calling from the trees behind him and one rustling through the bushes. Moving past the birds, he concentrates on another sound and realizes it's the sound of water. There must be a brook or small river nearby. Shaking his head, he blocks the sounds of the birds and water, zeroing in on one small faint sound. He has a hard time placing it. It sounds like the gentle clink of a chain, but why would a chain make a gentle clinking sound.

He opens his eyes to find he is facing the direction the sound. Just beyond the bushes the mysteriously clinking sound lies and he feels a dawning realization coming. Facing this direction not only feels familiar but is familiar. He's been here before. He's stood in this field, he's sat in the cool shade of the trees down by the river's edge, and most importantly, he's hidden behind these very bushes. Hope floods through him and he races to the bushes, not stopping when he reaches them but bursting through.

He waves his arms, clearing the small branches from the bushes from him and stops short. In front on him is the reason he heard gentle clinking of chains. A swing set occupied by a sole person and his breath catches at the sight.

Sitting on one of the swings was a woman; her feet digging into the dirt as she gently swung herself back and forth. Her long, dark red hair rippled down her back, the bright sun shining down on it making it appear as if a golden halo floated just above her. She raised her head and looked over at him, those startling green eyes rooting him where he stood. A gentle smile broke across her face, making her face shine and her eyes twinkle.

"Hi Sev."

Snape stared at her and he could physically feel the air rushing from his lungs. His eyes hungrily drank in every part of her. She didn't move, sitting on swing staring back at him, that gentle smile still on her face. How could she look at him and smile? He didn't deserve to see her smile like that, and the longer he looked the more he became aware that something wasn't right. A small crease forms between his brows. She looks younger than the last time he saw her, not that she was old when she died, but her face looks softer, her eyes not so hard worn. She looks innocent, as if she's never seen death, whether her friends or her own, nor ever had to deal it from her own wand in defense. Suddenly, his eyes dawning with comprehension, he knows where this Lily comes from.

"Lily"

Her name moved from his lips in a whisper, yet her smile brightens as if she heard. This was the Lily he remembered most, the one that haunted his dreams. She looks exactly has she did that summer so long ago, right after their fifth year. He tried desperately to reconcile with her, to make amends for the unforgivable word, but that was the thing. It was unforgivable. Nothing he did would make up for it; at least that's what he thought at the time. Now, older and wiser with the passage of time, he realizes why she wouldn't forgive. It wasn't the word. It was never the word. It was him and his choices. She could not follow him down the path he chose, and the pain almost swallowed him whole.

"Are you just going to stand there gawking at me?" Lily asks. She's still looking at him, the smile still on her face. "Come sit down."

Obediently he crosses the playground and sits in the empty swing beside her. Ashamed he looks down at the ground, afraid to look her in the eyes so close. Afraid of what he might find there. Anger. Hatred. His stomach clenched as if he had been punched. Hatred. Of course that's what he would see. It was his fault, all his fault. He pushed her away; he sent Voldemort after her. He was the reason she was dead.

"Find something interesting?"

Her voice. How he missed the sound of her voice, the music with which she spoke. Lost in the sound, he was startled to realize she didn't speak with hatred. No, this is how Lily always spoke when they were friends. Soft. Sweet. Comforting. He did not deserve to hear her speak like that, and especially to him.

"Sev," Lily's voice implored. "Look at me."

How could he deny her? Snape took a breath. He couldn't. It was as simple as that. Raising his head he looked at her.

"That wasn't so hard, was it?" Lily asks bemused.

"I'm so sorry," Snape croaks. The words leave him before he realizes he even meant to speak. Those were the words he's wanted to say to her for so long. Many times he thought about visiting Godric's Hollow, of standing by her grave, and saying those very words. He couldn't do it.

"I know," Lily says still smiling but with a tinge of sadness. "I know."

"You must hate me."

Lily reaches up and gently wipes away a tear on his cheek. He hadn't realized he was crying. "I don't hate you Sev."

"You should," he states bitterly. "It's my fault."

"What's your fault?"

Snape closes his eyes. "D…don't make me say it," he whispers. He opens his eyes to find Lily still smiling at him.

"Sev," she says with a slight chuckle. "Voldemort tried to kill me three times before you told him about the prophecy. I doubt he would have stopped simply because you didn't tell him."

"You know," Snape says slightly shocked.

"Yes," Lily answers simply.

"How? Did Dumbledore tell you?"

"It wasn't Dumbledore," Lily says. "It's surprising how much knowledge death brings you."

"I don't feel knowledgeable."

Lily laughs. "Of course not. You haven't gone on yet."

"On," Snape says confused.

Lily nods her head. "Yes. On." She gestures outward.

"I don't understand," Snape says. "Aren't I dead?"

"I'm afraid so." Lily says as a wave of sadness passes over her face. "I had hoped you would survive."

"Then, what is this place?" Snape asks carefully sidestepping what Lily said. He didn't want to know why she hoped he would survive.

"This," Lily says looking around, "is a stop along the way."

"A stop?" Snape queers, his eyebrows raised.

Lily smiled at the sight of him. "Yes. A stop or more accurately a heartbeat. This is where everyone goes when they are dead in those first few seconds when the heart stops but the mind still believes. Time doesn't apply here, so saying a few seconds means nothing or it means everything." She shrugs her shoulders.

"I don't understand."

"You will," Lily states. "Before that, however, you need to make a choice."

"A choice?"

"That is the only thing that matters here," Lily continues, "your choice."

"My choice," Snape repeats.

"Whether you chose to go on, or stay," Lily explains. "This is the place where such decisions are made, but you must understand," Lily looks at him with sorrow in her eyes, "you are dead."

Snape watches her closely. Now that he's looking at her, he can't take his eyes away, and he feels unworthy of the sorrow in her eyes. Despite that, he has to ask. "I can choose to stay here with you."

Lily smiles understandingly. "No." Snape's face falls. "This is a temporary place; it isn't meant to be forever."

"The choice then…"

"You can choose to go on, find what is on the otherside," Lily explains, "or you can choose to go back."

"Become a ghost in other words."

Lily cocks her head to the side. "Are you considering that?"

Snape considers her question. Is he so afraid of death that he would choose to return to the living world in the form of a specter? "No," Snape answers. "I'm not a coward. I'm not afraid of death or what it may bring."

Lily presses her hand against his cheek. "I never thought you were a coward. You were always braver than you gave yourself credit for."

They sit in silence. Snape leans into her hand, wanting to feel her warmth for as long as possible. The silence stretches for hours, days, weeks…or only a few seconds, and he's the one to break it. "Do you think things would have been different if I ended up in Gryffindor?"

Lily smiles sadly at him. She lifts her hand from his cheek and gently brushes his hair out of his eyes. "Probably."

Snape nods his head in acceptance, but doesn't want to dwell. Every time the thought crossed his mind, the pain of what might have been was unbearable, and it's no different now. Looking in her eyes he asks, "What do we do now?"

Lily grabs onto the swing and pushes herself back. "We swing."

Snape watches as Lily launches herself forward. He follows her as she moves back and forth, going higher and higher.

"Come on, Sev," Lily says. "Swing with me."

Smiling despite himself, Snape grabs onto the swing and pushes into the air. The wind rushes past his ears and sends his hair flying. Soon he forgets the years since Lily's death and the lingering thought in the back of his mind about her son and how he is fairing. The higher he pushes the swing, the lighter he becomes. The news about Lily's marriage to Potter, the first time he saw them together in their seventh year, the time he yelled "Mudblood," numerous times Lily tried to warn him about his friends, Petunia screaming "freaks" at them as they ran away from her in their second year, and the two of them sitting in the sun talking about Hogwarts and dementors fly past him with each pump of his legs. Laughing as he hasn't laughed in years, he looks over at Lily and is pleasantly surprised to find her swing matches his. "What do we do now?"

"We jump," Lily answers stretching her hand out. Snape looks at her. "Take my hand, Sev."

Snape reaches out and grabs Lily's hand. The swings jiggle a bit before leveling out. Together they swing even higher, and before Snape realizes, they are the same height Lily was all those summer's ago when she jumped and sailed through the air.

"Ready," Lily smiles at him. Snape nods.

"One."

"Two."

"Three."

Snape, feeling every bit like the innocent 10-year-old boy he was when he first approached Lily Evans and told her she was a witch, jumped.


End file.
